It Came Upon A Midnight Clear
by Orange Sodie
Summary: Christmas challenge entry. EricCalleigh, RyanValera, HoratioYelina.
1. Chapter 1

Author's notes: answer to the E/C Christmas challenge at CSI I had to break it into two parts cause it's too long. In this part the elements I included are: a cranky elf, glitter glue (lame), and a leaky tube. Enjoy! 

It Came Upon a Midnight Clear  
By Carolina

"Ryan, _please_ give it a rest."

"No. I can't. How could I? You don't know the _trauma_ that this is causing me."

"What trauma? You're blowing this way out of proportion," Valera said with an exasperated sigh.

As she walked she looked at him, but was quickly distracted by the various Christmas trinkets that hung from the ceiling and walls and graciously decorated the rented downtown locale. The room was bright and cheery, smelled like pine and fake now and Christmas, and there were carefully orchestrated luminescent icicles hanging from the ceiling. On the other side of the room, a table adorned a corner with more food than she'd seen in her life. Quickly she forgot about Ryan's ill temper as she hungrily eyed the food, her mouth watering, and she was about to make a mad dash for the table when Ryan started to fuss again, grumbling to himself.

Valera looked at him and smiled warmly. "I think you look adorable."

"I'm an elf, Max. I have curly-toed shoes," Ryan said bitterly, showing her his green elf shoes, and as he did so the jingle bells tangled in his shoe laces chimed merrily. His pointy green elf hat fell forwards and hit him on his forehead, and he angrily slapped the little red ball at the end of it back, but it swung in the air and hit him in the forehead again.

Valera raised her foot as well, trying to maintain her balance and almost failing. "So do I!"

"You're a girl," Ryan said, "_and_ you're pregnant. When people look at you they go _aww, look at the cute little pregnant lady in the elf outfit_. So far tonight I've been given directions to six gay bars and job offer at Chuck-E-Cheese."

Valera sighed. "It's one night, Ryan. And it's for the kids."

"You mean the same little angles who called me Zippy Angel-Pants and kicked me in the shins?" Ryan said crabbily. "Yeah, as long as the _kids_ are happy..."

"Well, you weren't exactly being nice back there, calling the orphanage a pest infested germ colony," Valera said. Remembering the altercation made Ryan smile, but it had the opposite effect on her and she sighed in sudden exasperation, slapping his shoulder hard. "We're having a baby soon, Ryan. You need to be nicer!"

"Ow! I _am_ nice," he said defensively, rubbing his shoulder.

"What are you going to do when you have to change his dirty diaper?"

"Oh, I'm not going anywhere near the diapers," he said sternly. "Besides, I saw the credit card bill. You spent fifty dollars on a diaper genie? Steep, but I think we're covered."

"That is not what a diaper genie is," Valera sighed, her hand landing on her bulging stomach; she rubbed it slightly. "It's for storing dirty diapers; it doesn't magically change the baby for you."

"_What_?" Ryan exclaimed, turning to her. His shoes jingled. "You spent fifty dollars on a trash can decorated with Snoopy pictures?"

"Well, we can take it back, and then every time I change the baby I can hand you the dirty diaper and you can personally shove it—"

"Fine, fine," he said bitterly, sighing. "We'll keep the stupid diaper genie. I still would rather be witness than willing participant to any sort of diapering that goes on when that kid gets here."

"Yeah, we'll see," Valera said and looked around the room. The lights and the twinkle of the decorations made her smile and she took a deep breath, their bickering forgotten. "It's beautiful in here."

But Ryan was more obsessed with his own attire. He looked down at his green and red shirt, the oversized buttons that decorated it, and the stripped red and white stockings that that made his legs look like two giant candy canes. Never in his life did he imagine he would have to dress like this, not even for charity. It was humiliating, even more so than that one time his mother made him dress up as Peter Pan for Halloween... at the age of 13.

"Can't I at least change now?"

"Give it up, Wolfe," Eric said behind him as he entered the room, "at least you didn't have to dress like Rudolph."

Ryan looked back at him, his curly toed shoes jingling as he moved. "Rudolph is imperative to Christmas. He guides the sleigh. What do elves do?"

"They make the presents," Valera said, happy with her response.

"Big deal," Ryan said. "A large group of overworked, underpaid midgets putting trinkets together for ungrateful children. I've seen pictures of toymakers. They don't dress like Tinkerbelle."

"Look what I'm wearing, man," Eric said, showing off his brown jumper suit, the reins that hung off his back and the huge antlers. His nose was engulfed by a red ball that turned bright when he pressed on a button.

Ryan narrowed his eyes at him. "You know, you can take that off now."

"I know," Eric said indignantly, twisting his red nose back in place and smiling happily.

But the younger CSI rolled his eyes. "Leave it to you to actually enjoy this."

"It's Christmas, Wolfe," Eric said, patting his back. "Lighten up."

"Bah," Ryan muttered as Eric walked away, and when he looked at his wife he found her grimacing. His foul mood quickly disappeared. "What's wrong?"

"My back is killing me," Valera said.

"Here, sit down." Ryan grabbed her arm and led her towards a table.

"I can't," Valera said, twirling away from his arms. "I think I see a chocolate fountain there. And strawberries. Oh my God, Ryan, cheesecake!"

Ryan narrowed his eyes at her. "Are you sure you aren't eating for three?" he said suspiciously. "We're sure we're not having twins, right?"

"I'm sure," Valera said, hungrily staring at the table of goods.

"I mean, I know we've checked—"

"Ryan, I think _I_ would know if there were two people living inside of me, don't you think?"

"I guess," he said, scratching his forehead. "It's just that, you know—"

She sighed. "What, I've been eating a lot lately and I'm a big fucking cow?"

"No!" he said quickly.

But she looked at him and huffed, pulled a chair back and sat down abrasively, staring at the center piece with reproach. Ryan ducked his head and sat next to her, tried to grab her hand but she pulled away.

"Come on, Max, I didn't mean anything by it."

She didn't reply, but her eyebrows furrowed even more and her eyes filled with tears. Ryan threw his head back and sighed. He loved his wife, he did. And he'd loved her even more throughout the pregnancy. He loved laying in bed at night with his hand on her stomach, feeling his son move. He loved taking her out for strolls and feeling ecstatic and proud every time a little old lady came forward to fuss over Valera's stomach, even those few embarrassing times when Valera would slap their hands away and tell them to mind their own business.

I'd been a long, anticipating adventure, like waiting in line for hours, getting ready to go on that rollercoaster ride. And though he wasn't a big fan of evincing joyful emotions, he'd loved every minute of it.

Except every once in a while Valera would go mad from crazy hormones and there was very little he could do to convince her that everything that went wrong in the world, from war, famine and hunger to the faulty toaster, _wasn't_ his fault. And it would be much different if she got upset over upsetting things - like murder, death, abandoned puppies - but leave it to Valera to get upset and start crying over the most mundane things, like melted ice cream, "drizzly rain," and Angelina Jolie adopting a second Asian baby. Really, what the hell do you say to _that_?

Sure, sometimes he knew he needed to be nicer, more patient, understanding. Being pregnant wasn't easy, he'd heard, and those crazy mood swings weren't really her fault. But that didn't mean the pregnancy had been a cakewalk for him, either, and the same apprehension that grabbed her at times, the same fears, he felt them double. Not knowing how to express this, due to his emotional retardedness, sometimes he tended to say the wrong things.

He looked at her and inched his chair closer. When he placed his hand on hers again and she didn't move, he breathed a sigh of relief.

"I didn't mean anything bad, you know that, right?"

She looked down at her lap and nodded slowly.

"Alright," he breathed loudly. "I will get you some chocolate and some cheesecake and some strawberries and you can eat until you pop, and I will only love you even more."

She looked at him. "Really?"

Ryan smiled.

A surge of electrical energy suddenly overtook her and she shifted in her chair to face him. "Make sure you use one of those sticks to dip the strawberries under the chocolate fountain, okay?"

"Alright," Ryan said, smiling. He stood up and kissed the top of her head. "Be right back." He left her by the table, crying and smiling. As he walked his curly-toed shoes jingled. He tried to ignore the merry sound.

--

After scanning the room quickly, Eric smiled victoriously when he found Calleigh standing in front of a huge wall, putting up the final Christmas decorations.

She was wearing a Mrs. Santa Claus costume, complete with a gray haired wig and gold rimmed glasses. He smiled to himself, making his way over and watching her movements. She used a tub of glitter glue to decorate a paper tree made out of construction paper and promptly hung it on the wall, cocking her head to the side to make sure it was absolutely perfect. No one tonight, or tomorrow, or ever, would look at this tree. No one would notice it there. But to Calleigh, it still needed needed to be just right, and for some inexplicable reason this made him happy.

When he was standing behind her he leaned closer. "Well, you don't usually see Mrs. Santa Claus out of the house on Christmas Eve," he whispered in her ear.

Calleigh turned around and nearly laughed at his silly reindeer costume but managed to control herself. "Well, it gets lonely when Santa Claus is off delivering presents."

"I hate to break it to you," Eric said, turning her around and pointing to a section of the room. "But that's not what Santa is doing?"

Calleigh frowned. There was Horatio on the other side of the room, dressed as Santa Claus and chatting happily, or rather _flirting_ happily, with Yelina Salas, who wore another reindeer costume. Calleigh gaped mockingly. "That two-timing whore!"

Eric smiled. "We don't call her Vixen cause it's a cute name."

"I meant _him_," Calleigh said.

"Forget him. He's an old man," Eric said. Turning her around so she faced him, he pulled her closer by the waist and buried his nose in her ear, making her shiver slightly. "He can't possibly have the necessary stamina to keep up with a classy lady like you. Speaking of stamina, did I mention I got to guide the sleigh tonight? All night. I could probably go for round two if I wanted."

Calleigh smiled. "I think Mr. Claus would have a heart attack if he discovered his favorite reindeer hitting on his wife," she said, gently pushing him away. "Besides, I _am_ a classy lady."

"Every classy lady has a dark side. I'd say the classier, the darker."

She looked at him suspiciously. "I knew you looked too happy to have those reins fitted on you."

He chuckled bashfully and stepped back. She picked up another decoration and he watched her. "Are you ready?"

"I think so," Calleigh said absentmindedly, examining the wall to determine where the new decoration would be placed.

"You _think_ so? Calleigh, we're leaving in 10 hours," Eric said, suddenly feeling antsy.

Calleigh sighed and looked at him. "Eric, you need to calm down," she said. "I could pack seven times in 10 hours."

"I know. I just don't want anything to go wrong."

"Nothing will," she said reassuringly.

But Eric's leg was already jittery, and for the first time he felt that nagging feeling on the back of his head become a little something more than a nagging feeling. He told himself to relax and try to push those feelings aside, but they were still there, tangled deep into his conscious like a thorn. Maybe he was just being paranoid. Maybe he was just anxious.

But something would go wrong. He knew it. He didn't know what, or when or how, but something was bound to happen. Experience, and that nagging feeling, told him so.

Taking a deep breath he tried to ignore the feeling, and he smiled when Calleigh finally found the perfect place for her final decorative concoction. He smiled when she did. "Jamaica."

Calleigh looked at him hesitantly, her smile fading slightly. "Eric, are you sure you can afford this?"

He sighed. "Calleigh..."

"I could pay for my own half."

"No," he said stubbornly. "It's my Christmas gift to you. You said you always wanted to go, so I'm taking you."

"I know, but it's too expensive."

"I don't care how much it costs and I don't want you to think about it," he said, pulling her towards him again. "We're going to Jamaica, we're going to lay in the sand and go in the water, and fill the time in between with activities that'll surely put us on the naughty list pretty much before the year is over."

"Oooh," Calleigh said devilishly. "You sound like a man who _thinks_ he's getting lucky."

Eric grinned. "Let me put it this way: if we don't get out of here soon this nose is going to turn blue."

She laughed, and quickly a chiming sound caught their attention. Horatio stood behind a small podium, hitting a wine glass with a fork. The room quickly quieted down, and Eric grabbed Calleigh's hand and guided her back towards the only table with two chairs still available. It was plain to see why they were. Valera sat in her chair with an assortment of paper plates in front of her, all filled with different kinds of food. She smiled happily as she sampled from each one with Ryan sitting next to her, looking at her apprehensively.

Eric sat down and reached for a brownie, but nearly lost a finger in the process.

Horatio's speech ended with a toast, and as it did the music finally began. The dance floor quickly filled up with CSIs and detectives, much to Calleigh's delight, and judging by the little dance Valera was currently performing in front of her 52 plates, she guessed the snacks were a success, too. Everything was going according to plan, in a few hours they would be able to go home, and then she and Eric would be on their way to Jamaica. The night's absolute perfection alone made her happy, the added bonuses made her ecstatic.

"Oh my God."

Her smile faded and quickly she turned to Eric, dreading that something might've gone wrong, and the look on his face did nothing to qualm her fears. She followed his gaze towards the dance floor, and upon discovering the source of his outburst she gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. "Oh my God!" she recoiled in horror.

Ryan and Valera quickly looked up, and the former grimaced heavily. "Whoa, what the hell is _that_?"

"Oh my God," Valera added, piece of cheesecake in hand, and the four watched in horror as Horatio stood in front of Yelina with a huge smile on his face, his body moving strangely, out of beat, arms akimbo. His head jerked backwards and forward, like a proud rooster, and his shoulders swayed from side to side.

"Is he having a seizure?" Ryan asked.

Eric frowned. "I think he's... dancing."

"That's not dancing," Ryan said. "I've seen dancing, and it looks _nothing_ like that. _That_ is convulsing."

"Should we call 911?" Valera asked innocently.

"Wait, wait," Calleigh said. "I think he really _is_ dancing."

All four stared in horror. Yelina didn't seem to mind, she merely laughed and twirled around, while Horatio managed to single handedly mangle every single step of The Hustle to the tune of a hip hop song.

"This is one of those things you think you may never see," Eric said, "like the end of the world or two cats having sex."

"I may need therapy after this," Ryan said.

"I may need a lobotomy," Calleigh added.

"Somebody tell him to stop," Valera said boldly. "I'm pregnant. My doctor doesn't want me to be upset."

Eric smiled, and promptly began to chuckle. "Somebody needs to go get a camera, right now."

"Why would you want to preserve this moment?" Ryan said.

"Bribery."

"Why isn't he stopping?" Valera said.

Calleigh smiled. "I think he's happy."

Valera frowned. "Why?"

"I think somebody spiked the punch," Eric said.

Ryan looked at him incredulously. "With what, cocaine?"

"He's not stopping," Valera said, getting visibly upset.

"Okay, alright," Eric said, "everybody look away... _now_."

But they continued to stare, nearly hypnotized by the sight.

"I... can't," Ryan said. "I'm trying, but I can't. It's like a horrible, horrible car accident and everybody involved is naked and out of shape."

"I want him to stop," Valera cried, her shoulders shaking, her eyes filling with tears. Ryan buried her head in his shoulder and tried to comfort her, while Eric chuckled and took a picture with his cell phone camera.

"At least he's having a good time," Calleigh said. "When was the last time any of you saw him smile?"

Valera quickly stood up and ran towards the bathroom, and Ryan stood after her but Calleigh decided to take over, and he was secretly glad. Until he realized he would have to continue watching Horatio dancing, and he heavily considered dealing with his crazy hormonal wife instead.

While he buried his face in his hands, Calleigh found Valera in the bathroom, standing in front of the sinks. She was looking down at the faucets, tears still streaming down her face. Calleigh found it funny, but knew she couldn't laugh or else Valera would get even more upset. So she approached her slowly instead, not knowing what to say, only knowing she was immensely glad she wasn't pregnant herself.

"Are you okay, sweetie?"

"It's just so sad," Valera said, blowing her nose.

Calleigh ran her hand through her hair. "I know."

Valera looked at Calleigh and her voice broke once more. "Why can't he dance?"

Calleigh smiled. "Some people just don't have rhythm."

Valera sniffed and looked down. "It's not fair."

Calleigh nodded. "Are you okay? It's not like you to cry over something like this. I don't think it's like _anyone_ to cry over something like this."

"I know," Valera sighed. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

"I just... like, people die every day, and I don't care! I think I probably cared more about the victims when I _wasn't_ pregnant," Valera explained. "But lately, just... stupid things just get to me. I can't help it, and my back hurts _so_ bad."

"I'm sorry," Calleigh said, trailing her hand down and rubbing Valera's lower back slightly. "Do you want me to get Ryan to take you home?"

"No, you've been planning this forever, I don't wanna ruin your party."

"Oh, don't worry about that, Valera."

Valera sighed. "I'll stay just... just tell Horatio to please sit down, okay?"

Calleigh smiled. "I will."

"Okay," Valera added, taking a deep breath. She threw her moist paper towel away and avoided looking into the mirror, knowing her face was red and swollen and crazy and she didn't want to deal with that. She followed Calleigh out the door, and the sound her curly-toed shoes produced made her smile, but when they reached the table she quickly noticed all her snacks were gone.

Her expression must've been well defined, because upon seeing her Ryan quickly raised his hands in defensive mode. Her face quickly turned red, and Ryan braced himself for it, but then she stopped and looked down, feeling something strange in her stomach, the baby moving in a way he'd never moved before, and her expression turned from anger to shock.

Ryan stood up quickly. "Max?"

Valera looked at him. "I think there's something wrong," she said, her eyes huge and green.

Ryan quickly felt the panic take him. "What do you mean? Are you okay?"

Calleigh placed her hand on Valera's elbow. "How do you feel?"

Valera put her hand to her stomach. "I don't know."

"Here, sit down." Ryan helped her to a chair, but as soon as she sat down he felt something wet drench his elf shoes. He looked down, and water was dripping from her chair down to the floor. His eyes widened to the size of watermelons. "You're leaking."

"Oh my God," Valera said, looking down. Her tights were drenching quickly, and try as she might, she couldn't stop the flow. "I'm peeing!"

"No you're not, your water just broke," Calleigh said, kneeling in front of her.

"Whoa," Eric said quickly, standing up. He came over and knelt next to Calleigh. "Are you okay?"

"I'm peeing in public, Eric," Valera said, self-aware. 

"It's not pee, honey, we need to take you to the hospital," Calleigh said.

"Wait, what?" Ryan said, and his heart rate quickened. "Right now?"

"Yes, Ryan, she's having the baby," Calleigh said. "Eric, get the car."

"No!" Valera quickly objected, but Eric ignored her and ran out of the room anyway. "The baby can't be born right now, I don't want him to!"

"Well, honey, you don't have a say," Calleigh said, quickly helping her onto her feet.

"I don't want a Christmas baby, I hate Christmas babies," she said. "They're always bragging about the fact that they were born on Christmas or complaining that they never get enough presents. I don't wanna have to tell my own kid to stop being an asshole!"

"Max, we don't have a say," Ryan said and realizing what he'd just said, he began to breathe quickly. "Oh my God. Okay, okay, this is... this is... we're gonna be okay."

Valera looked at him strangely. "Uh huh."

"Right? The baby's coming, and we don't have our bags, we're dressed like elves," he continued. "Oh my God."

"Ryan!" Calleigh scolded him.

He looked at her and quickly tried to compose himself. It didn't work. "It's okay. It's okay! Push, honey, push!"

"No--she can't push yet!" Calleigh yelled at him. "Help me get her to the car."

"No, no, I'm not doing this," Valera said.

"Honey, either we take you to the hospital or you'll have the baby here. And I checked the playlist, The Hustle is coming up around 10 pm," Calleigh said.

"Oh my God," Valera said, remembering Horatio's dancing. It prompted her to run out of the locale faster.

Outside, Eric was already waiting in his car, and with Ryan's help Calleigh gently sat Valera in the back seat. She thought Ryan looked even more panicked than Valera, but she couldn't take care of them both at the same time, so she hopped on the passenger's seat and Eric quickly drove out of the parking lot.

"Breathe, breathe," she heard Ryan say.

"I _am_ breathing, that's how I'm staying alive," Valera growled.

Eric looked in the rear view mirror, and Ryan's panicked face made him frown. Speaking quietly, he turned to Calleigh. "Remember when you said nothing would go wrong?"

Calleigh looked at him and grimaced slightly. "Oops?"

Eric sighed and pressed on the accelerator.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

It Came Upon a Midnight Clear  
_Part Two_

Eric paced around the waiting room, running his hand through his head. The clock on the wall screamed "you're going to miss your flight" and he checked his watch, hoping for a different suggestion. But it, too, confirmed his fear: Jamaica was starting to look distant. Very distant.

Calleigh watched him apprehensively, a random medical magazine draped over her thigh. He reached the end of the room, checked his watch and walked back, and the only other person in there with them, an older woman knitting something pink (an expectant grandmother, most likely) already seemed annoyed by him.

"Eric, sit down, you're driving me crazy," Calleigh finally said, and with a loud sigh he came over, shoulders hunched, and sat next to her.

After a moment of silence, he rested his elbows on his knees and stared straight ahead. "We're gonna miss our flight."

"You don't know that," Calleigh said, glancing back at the magazine, though she couldn't concentrate on its contents.

"It's a baby, Calleigh. A Wolfe baby. The thing will probably take days to find its way out of Valera's birth canal both because of his genes and because every male Wolfe is set on making my life a living hell."

Calleigh looked at him; he was now bitterly playing with a piece of lint he found on his suit. "Our friends are having a baby, Eric, and we're the godparents," she said. "We can't just take off and leave them here."

He didn't look back at her and his silence spoke volumes about his mood. Eric had been looking forward to this trip since the summer, when an off-handed comment about Jamaica gave him the silly idea that he needed to take her there, because they hadn't taken a vacation in God knows how long, or together, and other reasons that only made sense in Eric's head. She resisted the idea for a long time; he'd only just recently been able to get Carmen Henney off his back and money was a bit tight. But every time he talked about Jamaica his eyes shone so brightly and his smile was so infectious she found herself giving in quickly. He'd been planning the trip for six months, intricately studying everything from weather patterns to her menstrual cycle (much to her aggravation), and now all his plans were crumbling.

Feeling slightly sympathetic, she put her hand on his back and rubbed it gently. "It'll be fine. If anything we might have to catch a later flight. It's not the end of the world."

Finally he looked back at her, and her smile prompted him to relax slightly. He sat back and as she once again began to scan her magazine he looked down, contemplating something in silence. After a few minutes, he looked over at her, worried. "You got the red bikini, right?"

Calleigh fought a smile and rolled her eyes. "Eric, you see me naked every day."

He smiled at the imagery. "I know, but it's a red bikini, Cal."

"A red bikini," she repeated, though with much less enthusiasm than him.

His dimples made an appearance. "A red bikini."

"And what makes it different from my yellow bikini? Or my black and white bikini?" she pondered, putting the magazine away and giving him her full attention, waiting for a reply, her fingers looped together over her lap.

"Well... it's red," he said simply.

She blinked. "Right."

"So that makes it a red bikini," he said, and the logic only seemed to exist in his mind.

So Calleigh sighed and shook her head, looking away. "Yes, Eric, I bought a red bikini."

Eric's smile lit up the room, and they were in silence for a while but at least he was no longer fidgeting. He looked at his watch again, and she pretended not to notice for both their sakes, but when the minutes tickled by and the silence became unbearable, his leg began to shake. Calleigh ignored him, for a few minutes or so, but when it became impossible she put her hand on his thigh and quickly the shaking stopped. She looked at him.

His expression turned apologetic. "I just want it to be perfect."

Calleigh smiled, leaned over and gave him a quick kiss, and whispered so the old lady wouldn't hear, "It won't be perfect, but I can at least promise you lots of hot sex."

Eric grinned. "And a red bikini?"

She rolled her eyes again. "You're so obsessed with the red bikini I'm not sure you'll manage to take it off."

"Thankfully I've had a lot of practice in that area," he said smugly. "Never _with_ the red bikini, but—"

"Shut up, Eric."

And at the sight of Rudolph kissing Mrs. Santa Claus in the middle of the Labor and Delivery waiting room, the kitting woman quickly looked down and nervously began to knit faster.

--

In the delivery room, the doctor finished examining Valera and took a step backwards, taking her gloves off and throwing them away in a nearby bin. The nurse handed her a chart and she scribbled something down. "Alright, Maxine, you're about six centimeters."

"Six?" Valera exclaimed. Her contractions were starting to get more intense and sweat was gathering along her hairline.

"And you're in back labor," the doctor finished.

"Back labor?" Ryan echoed, confused. His hand was on Valera's stomach and he looked nervous. "What does that mean?"

Valera looked at the doctor, worried and a little irritated. "The baby's still coming out of my vagina, right?"

The doctor chuckled. "Yes, but because of his position you're feeling your contractions on your back, not your uterus."

"Her back's been bothering her all day," Ryan said.

"It happens, sweetie. You probably didn't know you were in labor until your water broke."

"Oh my God," Valera moaned, throwing her head back. Her eyes filled with tears and Ryan gently ran his hand through her hair.

"Don't worry, honey, now that your water's broke things are going to progress a little faster," the doctor explained. "And we're going to try to turn the baby's position so you can feel a little more comfortable, alright?"

"Okay," Valera sighed.

"I'm gonna page the anesthesiologist so you can get your epidural."

Valera closed her eyes tight and tried not to think of the pain. It didn't work. Nothing worked. In fact the only thing that made her feel slightly better was the promising relief that came with the idea of reaching into her insides, ripping her fallopian tubes out and strangling herself with them. And yet the doctor stood there, scribbling something on a chart. Seconds passed. The pain increased and Valera waited patiently, for about three seconds or so, but when the doctor didn't move she felt the aggravation squirming its way out of her every pore and she frowned, her nostrils flaring slightly.

"That's funny," she said. "I've seen people page other people before, usually a phone is involved."

"Max," Ryan said.

The doctor smiled apologetically. "I'm right on it, honey."

"No, but see, right on it means right on it _right now_, and right now I don't see you _right on it_, or else I wouldn't feel like somebody's maniacally pumping my vagina with an industrial plunger," Valera said, irritated, but trying to sound sweet. Her smile, however, had long faded. Ryan flinched.

The doctor, already used to seeing women in this mood, didn't seem fazed. "How about I go get him personally?"

"Run, just... _please_," Valera said between clenched teeth.

The doctor smiled and stroked Valera's foot and averted her eyes towards Ryan before leaving. "Nice shoes."

He frowned at her, and quickly returned his attention to Valera. Her eyes were closed and her breathing deep. He grimaced, feeling both pity and remorse. "You okay?"

"Your son is using my spinal cord as a stripper's pole," she breathed.

"I know, I'm sorry," he said, stroking her arm.

Her eyes finally opened, but she concentrated on the ceiling, pondering. Gripping the sheets tight, she suddenly began to nod. "You know, this is fine," she said, taking a deep breath and letting it out quickly. "Right? I mean, it's okay."

Ryan smiled hesitantly. "Yeah, we're okay."

"I mean," she continued, "when you think about it, it's a lot like the Nativity scene, you know? It's December 24th, I'm having a baby..."

He relaxed. "Right."

"Except... there's no gold offerings from strange wise men, I'm the _furthest_ thing away from being a virgin, and my husband's dressed like the grand marshal of the Whoville Gay Pride Parade."

"Hey," Ryan complained.

Valera looked at him affectionately as she breathed heavily. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that."

"It's okay."

"I meant gay as in... happy. You're a happy elf and I love you so—oh, God, this one's big," she groaned.

Ryan began to panic as she leaned forward and moaned in pain. "Okay, okay, breathe babe!" He tried to hold her hand, but she opted for gripping on the sheets instead, and he felt again guilty and useless. "You're doing great, Max."

Between breaths and groans she managed to ask, "Where's Calleigh?"

"She's in the waiting room."

"Go get her."

Ryan, hesitated. His shoes jingled. "Uh, honey—"

"I said go get her, you stupid homo!" she bellowed.

Ryan jumped back. "Okay! Okay!" He ran out of the room, got lost in the endless hallways, but finally managed to find the waiting area. Calleigh and Eric stood up quickly when they saw him, and looking at them in their ridiculous Christmas outfits suddenly reminded him of his own, and once again he couldn't believe this was happening tonight.

"What's going on?" Calleigh asked, placing a gentle hand on his arm.

"Hey, uh, she wants you," he said nervously.

"Is everything okay?" Eric asked, concerned, and briefly wondered if Ryan was about to pass out.

"Yeah... I don't know, there's... like, pain and stuff coming out of her," Ryan replied, speaking quickly and breathing hard. "She called me a homosexual; I really think you should go in there."

Calleigh looked at Eric, and though she could tell Jamaica was still on his mind, he nodded at her and she smiled at him before leaving. Eric turned his attention towards Ryan, who had succeeded in turning both ghost white and pale green at the same time.

"You alright, man?"

"It's rough." Ryan took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "The baby's in the wrong position. It's time for him to be born and he's facing the wrong way. Can you believe that? There's nothing I can do about it. My son can't seem to find his way out of my wife's vagina, Delko."

Eric smirked. "Can't blame him. I'm surprised _you_ found your way in."

Ryan scowled at him, and without saying a word walked out of the waiting room. He found Valera lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, her contraction seemingly gone. Her hair was a mess and she looked like she was in a daze.

Calleigh approached the bed slowly. "Hi, sweetie."

Valera saw her and cried, reaching over. "Oh, God, Calleigh it's awful."

Calleigh sat by the edge of the bed and embraced her. "I know, honey."

"Don't do this, don't _ever_ get pregnant—trust me. Let the welfare queens populate the country."

Calleigh chuckled. "Do you need me to get you anything?"

Valera shook her head, frowning. "We left our bags at home."

"I can have Eric go pick them up," Calleigh said.

"No, it's okay," Valera said. Sighing, she threw her head back again. "I'm at six, can you believe that? _Six_."

"That's good, means it might be over soon."

"I hope so," Valera said and sighed as Calleigh ran her hand through her dark hair. "God, I hope I don't go number two when I start pushing."

Calleigh laughed. "_That's_ your biggest concern right now?"

"It would be so embarrassing," Valera replied, sweaty and disheveled, and the two women began to chuckle together.

Ryan stood back and watched them, frowning, wondering how he was ever going to survive this. Valera seemed to be going from psychotic to loving to playful to violent and he never knew which mood would take predominance and when. But presently the two women became cozy together and began to chat, and Ryan resumed his spot, feeling slightly jealous and terrible about the fact that Calleigh could comfort his wife when he couldn't. He knew _he_ was supposed to be there, by her side, holding her hand and feeding her ice chips, but he was so nervous about the whole thing he knew he wouldn't be able to provide much comfort, and she'd already snapped at him once.

When Valera announced she was pregnant nearly 8 months earlier, he'd been happy. His immediate reaction helped him cope with the fact that he would become a father, and all was well. During the first few weeks he experienced periodic bouts of apprehension, but he knew that however long the pregnancy lasted was enough time to come to terms with the fact that _he_ would be responsible for another human being for the rest of his life. But as her due date neared, and he hadn't shared this with Valera fearing it would hurt her, he began to feel more and more hesitant about the whole thing.

He was nervous. Not just nervous, right down fucking out of his skull terrified. And though he loved Valera and already loved the baby, that fear grew day by day and often prompted many sleepless nights. They'd read the books, talked to other parents, taken classes, decorated the nursery and stocked on clothes and diapers, and yet there was that nagging voice every day telling him they just weren't ready for this and perhaps never would be.

The moment of truth finally arrived, and he found now the fear, coupled with Valera's contractions, was consuming him.

Luckily the anesthesiologist arrived before the next contraction did, and after practically getting down on her knees and kissing his feet, Valera fell into a restless sleep. He sat by her bed, and Calleigh did the same on the other side, but the silence reminded him of the tired and proverbial calm before the storm and he was unable to relax.

"You can go, Calleigh," he finally said. "I know you and Eric have that trip."

"It's okay." Calleigh smiled.

"No, I mean... I think I can handle this," he said, and though his quivering voice betrayed him be tried to keep himself together.

"I know you can," Calleigh said. "I wanna be here. And so does Eric."

Ryan smiled, and the tension he felt eased slightly (though his fingers continued to tremble and he felt an overwhelming urge to start biting his nails). He watched Valera as she slept, participated in mindless chatter with Calleigh, held his wife's hand when the doctor returned to turn the baby's position and watched her fall asleep again. At one point he must've dozed off as well because when his eyes opened the doctor was back, Valera was awake, and Calleigh was on her feet. He looked around, confused, and his heart dropped and he tried not to throw up when the doctor took her gloves off and said,

"Alright, how about we get this show on the road?"

Although it took hours and hours, it all happened too fast for Ryan after that.

And years later, when he tried to recall the details of the delivery, he only remembered the small details. Valera's hand squeezing his, and the sweat along her forehead, and Calleigh's encouraging words, the nurse approaching the doctor with a blanket, and everything else was a soundless blur, all a prelude to the doctor's very curious and unpredictable, and momentarily unwelcome, announcement,

"Oh—it's a girl."

Just like that. And then everything ceased to sound and smell and be and he stared, with great astonishment and confusion, at the alien creature in front of him, waving its arms around helplessly, mouth wide open and _wailing_, covered in goo and blood.

"Oh my God," was the very first sound he heard, and never did find out of it came from Valera or him or Calleigh or even the doctor (or possibly the creature itself).

His throat was dry as the screaming child was placed on Valera's chest, and both she and Calleigh were instantly marveled, fussing over the baby with adoration and tears in their eyes. Looking at the scene, his mouth partly opened, Ryan thought he was dreaming it all. That must've been it. Maybe he was still sleeping by Valera's bedside, waiting for the delivery to start, and he must've been even more nervous than he thought, because this particular dream ended with the birth of a _girl_, not the hideous alien that burst out of Maxine's womb like in all the others dreams.

He shook his head, and pinched his thigh, and moved, and the jingle of his shoes alerted him of a painful reality: he'd had many strange dreams in his lifetime, but this wasn't one of them.

"Oh, you are so... gross," Valera cooed at her daughter, and a nurse came over and took the baby away. Calleigh kissed the top of Valera's head and Ryan stood there, watching as the child was cleaned. The lack of penis was immensely evident.

"It..." he finally stammered, pointing at the baby and looking at the doctor, "it's not a girl. We're... we're having a boy. A _boy_."

The doctor didn't look up. "I'm sorry, what?"

Ryan frowned. "The boy. Where's the _boy_?"

The doctor seemed too busy with her head immersed in Valera's private area, and Ryan quickly scurried over, taking a peek, but there seemed to be nothing else inside (save for more goo). Still he stood there, waiting for another announcement to be made, waiting for _something_ that would explain just what in the hell just happened or caused his boy to turn into a girl.

"Ryan, what are you doing?" Valera asked.

"She said we were having a boy," Ryan told her, and felt himself getting a little agitated. "She lied to us—you _lied_ to us!"

"Ultrasounds aren't a hundred percent accurate, Ryan," the doctor finally said. "It happens sometimes."

"It _happens_ sometimes?" he said and stopped, and took a deep breath.

Valera looked at him and frowned. "Are you okay?"

He nodded, but could already hear the roar of a wave of nausea approaching.

The doctor ignored him and looked up. "Alright, Maxine, one more push for the placenta."

And the sight of more goo coming out of his wife Ryan turned away. The girl child continued to cry as she was measured and weighed and inevitably tagged "Baby Girl Wolfe." And when the nurse suddenly reached for a _pink_ hat and placed it over the baby's head, his knees began to buckle.

Chair. He needed a chair. But after locating one the room continued to spin and he closed his eyes. _Just wake up_, he told himself. _Wake up and everything will be fine._ He opened his eyes. Nothing happened. The pink creature continued to wail, arms flailing about and legs spread apart, exhibiting to the world the ultimate proof of her sex.

--

Some time later, Calleigh walked back into the waiting room and found Eric fast asleep.

The back of his head rested against the wall and his mouth was partly opened, and the knitting lady was gone. Either her grandchild had been born or the woman hadn't been comfortable staying in a room alone with a fidgeting grown man dressed as Rudolph the reindeer. With a smile she leaned over him and kissed his lower lip, and his eyes quickly opened. The first thing he did was check his watch; she decided to ignore it.

"Hey," she said. "How long have you been asleep?"

"I don't know," he said, rubbing his face and neck. "Is it over?"

"It's over."

"How'd it go?"

"Great," Calleigh said, beaming smile. She sat on his lap and he kissed her neck. "Ten fingers, ten toes, one vagina."

Eric chuckled. "Yeah, I know how _Ryan_ is, I meant the baby." She gave him a look and he frowned. "Wait, I thought it was supposed to be a boy."

Calleigh shrugged her shoulders. "It was a girl."

"Wow."

"I know."

"So we have a goddaughter?"

"Isn't that amazing?"

Eric smiled. "Can I see her?"

"She's getting her first shots," Calleigh said. "By the way, newborn babies? A little gross. And not as cute as you'd think."

"Yeah, well, consider the genes," he said and when she slapped his arm he chuckled. She pressed her temple to his, and though he could tell she was itching to share with him the details of the delivery, there were more pressing matters in his mind. "Think we have time to go home and pack real quick?"

"Yeah." Calleigh smiled. "I just wanna say goodbye before we go."

"Okay." He let her go and stood up, and began pacing around the room again. He thought briefly he should've gone with her, congratulate the new parents and all, but the idea of walking into that room and seeing parts of Valera he wasn't particularly fond of familiarizing himself with made him stop. He loved Valera. He didn't love her _that_ much.

He waited. And waited some more. He was starting to hate the sight of his watch but couldn't stop glancing at it. In a couple of hours a plane would be taking him and Calleigh to Kingston, finally, after months of waiting, and he wanted everything to be perfect.

At the moment, nothing was perfect. At the moment, he was dressed as Rudolph and Calleigh as Mrs. Santa Claus, he was in a hospital and the baby that was supposed to be born in two weeks had chosen tonight to make its grand appearance. At the moment, they hadn't packed a single thing, their belongings were at home, and they needed to be at the airport in an hour. Nothing was perfect at the moment. In fact, everything was so far away from perfection that he wouldn't be surprised if the plane crashed into a damn mountain.

And the minutes continued to pass. He sighed and ran his hand through his face again. He'd yet to meet his goddaughter and already he was starting to have issues with her. Then he remembered it wasn't her fault that she inherited both Wolfe and Valera genes (a disastrous combination if there ever was one), but he needed to direct his anger at _something_.

Finally he spotted Calleigh walking over, and didn't wait for her to walk into the room before he met her outside. His aggravation had increased tenfold.

"Okay, if we go straight to the airport _right now_, we can make our flight. I know we don't have our luggage, but we'll just have to buy clothes in Jamaica. Or not. I really wasn't planning on needing them anyway and anything you put on I plan to take off right away, so let's go," he said quickly.

But Calleigh seemed distracted. "You have to talk to Ryan."

Eric threw his head backwards in annoyance. "Why?!"

"He's pitchin' a hissy fit," Calleigh explained. "The whole baby thing, I don't know. You have to talk to him."

Eric sighed. "No, Calleigh, I can't do this. I can't cater to his every quirk. We're not their parents. They have to learn to take care of themselves, they have a baby now."

"I know, Eric, but he really needs someone to talk to," she said, holding his hand.

Eric checked his watch. If they didn't leave soon, soon as in _right now_, the plane would leave without them. "Where'd he go?"

"I don't know, he took off. Valera doesn't know, I don't want her to worry," Calleigh said and winced at his expression. She rarely saw Eric this angry and she hated this as much as he but also hated the idea of leaving Valera alone. "I know, Eric. Do it for her, at least?"

Eric sighed, checked his watch and looked at her. Goddamn all the Wolfe clan to hell. "Alright, don't go anywhere. I'll find him, push him into the room, you look the door behind him, we take off."

She nodded and he jogged off, went to the lobby, the parking lot, the cafeteria, even the psychiatric ward to find there was no Ryan. He was beginning to lose hope when finally it occurred to him, and he found Ryan outside the nursery, looking like a desolate ghoul, his forehead leaning against the crystal panel that separated him from dozens of babies. Even from his spot, Eric could hear some of them crying.

He walked over and stood next to Ryan, looking at all the babies and miraculously, his aggravation waned slightly. He watched them sleep and suck on their pacifiers. One baby boy was staring at the inside of his bassinet, fascinated by it. Another one had managed to take off his beanie and was crying. A baby girl was sucking on her thumb. He smiled. He knew he and Calleigh weren't quite there yet, hadn't even talked about it, but he hoped some day they might have a little critter of their own.

"You know, I had this planned out. I've had it planned for months," Ryan suddenly said, woefully.

Eric looked over. "What?"

"This. All of it," Ryan sighed. "Max was going to go into labor at home, and I would drive her to the hospital, where she'd get an epidural, and I'd get to sleep by her bedside. Then she'd get to ten centimeters and push for an hour, tops, and then my son was going to be born in all his male glory. But more importantly, I would be wearing a regular shirt and regular pants and non-curly toed shoes, not this... clown outfit."

Eric shook his head, finding it difficult to fetch any sympathy for him. "What are you doing, man?"

"I can't do this," Ryan said, looking pale.

"What are you talking about? Of course you can."

Ryan looked at him. "Delko, I have a _daughter_."

"So?"

"So?" Ryan exclaimed. "I don't know anything about girls."

Eric raised an eyebrow in amusement. "Then I'm surprised you got this far."

Ryan glared at him. "I mean _little _girls. Little baby girls. Little pink bundles of... _girl_. I can't do this, I don't know how."

"It's not rocket science, Wolfe," Eric said. "She eats, she poops, she sleeps..."

"And then she'll grow up and menstruate, and date boys and get pregnant... I don't know how to deal with that. I know how to play baseball, and shave, and carve a turkey. I can't do ballet, or cheer leading, or... I can't even think of anything else that girls do!"

"Well, you're gonna have to step up, because that kid in there? That's _your_ kid, and she's counting on you to not mess her up, so be a man and just..."

But Ryan sighed and closed his eyes, letting his head rest against the panel. Another wave of nausea approached.

Eric rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Come on."

Ryan frowned. "Where."

"Let's go in."

Ryan's eyes widened. "In where?"

"Let's go see her." Grabbing Ryan's arm, Eric began to pull him towards the door to the nursery.

Ryan tried to pull back. "Delko, _no_."

"She's your kid, Wolfe. You're gonna have to hold her at one point."

"No, no I don't have to. Valera's got that covered, she's _really_ good at the whole... holding thing, I'm not—I'm not good at that, I'll drop her."

"You're not gonna drop her, come on," Eric said, and inside the nursery Ryan became even more nervous, and after checking the bracelet he wore a nurse allowed him to sit in a rocking chair. She left, and a few seconds later she came back pushing a basinet, and Ryan's eyes widened so much Eric thought he was having a stroke.

"Here she is," the nurse announced and deposited the baby in Ryan's tense arms, and the nausea nearly became unbearable. He sat there motionless, holding the child awkwardly. But much to his surprise, the baby didn't cry, didn't do anything, really, but lay there in his arms like it was the most natural thing in the world.

What was _wrong_ with her?

"See? It's easy," Eric said.

"This is easy?" Ryan croaked out.

"This is all you have to do. For now," Eric said. "Yeah, she'll menstruate in 13 years and date boys and get into trouble, but _right now_, right this moment, this is _all_ you have to do."

So Ryan did just that. He sat there and he held her and she slept. She was heavy and real and breathing, and not having sex or getting pregnant or piercing her nose. She just lay there and he watched her hesitantly. Her eyelashes were long and dark, she had a round chin like Valera, pink cheeks, and his ears.

Good Lord, the thing had his _ears_.

That's when it hit him.

"Oh my God." Staring at the baby as if for the first time, he found himself short of breath. "I have a daughter."

"Yeah, I know," Eric sighed.

"No, Delko, I have a _daughter_," Ryan said.

Eric rolled his eyes. "Look, it's not that bad, alright?"

"Wow," Ryan said, watching, fascinated. The baby suddenly yawned, and at that moment he could feel his heart breaking into a million pieces and his eyes quickly became moist. "Oh my God," he repeated, taking the sight of her tiny fingers and toes. The nausea persisted, but he was able to ignore it. "Look at her!"

Eric smiled. "She's beautiful."

"She's... way more than beautiful," Ryan said and began to bounce her slightly. She didn't seem to hate him for it and that made him more confident. "What's more beautiful than beautiful?"

"Gorgeous?"

"No, no, she's more beautiful than gorgeous."

Eric frowned. "You alright?"

"Yeah," Ryan said. "I mean, look at her!"

Eric rolled his eyes. "I _have_ looked at her."

"You're not looking at her the way I'm looking at her."

"Well, that's because you're her daddy."

"I'm her daddy," Ryan said, as if the thought hadn't occurred to him before. Suddenly he felt proud and sat up straight. "I _am_ her daddy. I'm her _daddy_."

Eric flinched. "Okay, it's starting to sound creepy."

"Wow," Ryan repeated for the nth time. He took in all her features, and even though she looked like every other baby he'd seen before there was something different and breathtaking, aesthetically, or maybe in her ability to lie in his arms so carelessly, so simply. And he suddenly remembered all the times he put his hand on Valera's bulging stomach and felt the baby kick, wondered if she knew now how often it was his voice and his touch, through skin and tissue and fluid, that lulled her to sleep during all those restless nights, all the times he'd call her experimental names (from Milo, to Linus, to Callum but never being able to decide) only to be rewarded with a swift kick, as if she'd tried to warn him all along.

She looked like every other baby. Ten fingers, ten toes, two eyes, a nose, tiny lips. It was simple science, really. Half his DNA, half Valera's; a compendium of tissues and cells, of atoms, molecules and polypeptides, organs, limbs, and skin and bones come together to form a tiny organism. Basic third grade science. But as he looked at her he realized there was so much more that he couldn't account for, something that propelled her to a different level, tiny and simple but too complicated for a science man to figure out, and that he would try to figure out for years to come before inevitably giving up. Falling in love with his child would remain nothing but a relentless, albeit fruitless, search for simple answers.

Eric pressed his lips together, waiting for something to happen. "You doing okay?"

Ryan nodded and shook his head at once, and his eyes were red and glistening. "I've never—" he began and stopped, shrugging his shoulders, not really knowing what else to say or how to say it. He'd never been a man of words. Not thought-out words, anyway. They were in his mind, and in his heart, but there they would remain for a while to come.

But lying in his arms, unconcerned with his lack of eloquence, she seemed to know. She seemed to know better than he did and he smiled hesitantly. "It's gonna be okay, right?"

Eric smiled but didn't reply, instinctively feeling the question wasn't directed at him. He patted Ryan's shoulder before walking out, leaving father and daughter alone.

--

"She's beautiful," Calleigh said, sitting next to Valera in her hospital bed.

Eric anxiously checked his watch but nodded. "Yeah, come on, who's the real father?"

"Very funny," Ryan said, watching Valera hold the baby, like she'd been there all along. It was a terrifying sight, but a pleasant one all the same.

"So what are you naming her," Eric asked. "Chrissy?"

"Ew," Valera said.

"Natalie? Noelle?" Calleigh said. "Mary?"

"Janet? Mr. Roper?" Eric added.

"Okay, stop hating on my baby," Valera said protectively and then smiled at the baby sweetly. "Her name is Lilia Susannah."

"Or Emerald Diamond Pearl Wolfe," Ryan intercepted, proudly. "We haven't decided."

"Ugh," Valera said, looking at him with disgust. "Yes we've decided. We've decided her name is Lilia Susannah."

Calleigh flinched. "Why don't you guys compromise?"

Valera rolled her eyes. "Her name is Lilia Susannah or you're sleeping on their couch for a year."

"Lilia Susannah it is," Eric exclaimed. "The Godfather has spoken. And as much as the Godfather would like to stay and chat..."

"Yeah, we should go," Calleigh added, leaning over to give Valera a hug.

"Thank you so much, Calleigh."

"No problem, honey."

Ryan stood up and put his hands in his pockets, avoiding eye contact with Eric. "Yeah, uh, thanks—"

"Save it," Eric said and grabbed Calleigh's hand. "We'll be back in a week, try to survive til then."

"If you kill her and replace her, we'll know," Calleigh said as Eric dragged her out. "Merry Christmas!"

"Bring back rum!" Valera said before they ran off, and instantly she missed their presence, because now it was her with a mute baby and a grown man dressed as a Christmas elf (though she was used to finding herself in strange situations, she had to admit this one was one of her top five).

Ryan took up Calleigh's spot on the bed, and though his shoes jingled wildly for once he was able to ignore the insufferable sound. "I think there might be something wrong with this baby."

Valera rolled her eyes. "Would you let it go, Ryan? She'll only smell like that for a day."

"That's not what I meant," he said, settling in. "I meant, it's only been four hours and I already love her more than I've ever loved anything."

Valera smiled.

"How is she doing that?"

"She must be a witch," Valera said darkly. "Let's go home and put her in the tub. If she doesn't sink, we'll have to burn her."

Ryan smiled. "No, I think I wanna keep her."

Valera nodded. "Good, cause try as I might I couldn't push the warranty out, so I'm afraid we're stuck with her."

He smiled and pressed a kiss to her temple, and though he found it corny and predictable he also found that for once, he was okay with that. "Hell of a Christmas present, huh?"

"She's okay," Valera said, shrugging her shoulders. "I kinda wanted a plasma TV, though."

He chuckled and finally kicked his curly-toed shoes off. They fell off the side of the bed with a loud and final chime. "What are we going to do with all those boy clothes?"

"We could donate them to charity," Valera suggested and looked at her child. "Or we could raise her as a lesbian."

"Either or," Ryan said. A comfortable silence fell upon the room and he looked at his daughter. She lay in Valera's arms peacefully, with her little hands pressed to her face. At a tiny five pounds, seven ounces he knew there was logically no reason to be scared of her, but there was still that persistent fear in the pit of his stomach he would have to learn to live with for years to come.

It made him feel guilty. Certainly Golden Boy Delko would handle this flawlessly, but Ryan lacked the familial skills and experience he thought were necessary, and still he was scared he was going to mess things up. Uncle Ron had been a good mentor, a good substitute for the father he never had, but still it was never quite enough, and now here he was, ready (or not) to embark on the same journey his father had bailed out on decades ago.

Pressing his lips to Valera's shoulder, he confessed quietly, "I'm sorry I freaked out earlier."

She pressed her cheek to the top of his head and squinted her eyes. "I'm sorry I called you a homosexual," she said and looked at him. "I only think that sometimes."

"Thanks," he said sarcastically.

Valera looked at him and sighed, self-consciously rolling her eyes. "Look, this is scary for me too, you know," she confessed.

He looked at her, surprised. "Really?"

She looked down and shrugged her shoulders. "You know the reason I wanted a boy was because I knew as the dad, you'd have to do most of the work and I could just watch TV and be queen of the house," she said. "And now I have a girl and it's _all_ on me, the hair and the girly clothes and prom dresses, make up, all the special Brady Bunch moments..."

"You don't have to do all the work," Ryan said. "I'll help, I'll chase the boys away and... buy the... tampons," he added with a shudder.

"Ugh, I hadn't even thought about that," Valera said.

He sat up straight, feeling slightly more confident. "Let's just get through day one first. If we're alive in the morning, maybe there's hope."

She smiled. "Deal."

Leaning over, he kissed her forehead and they snuggled together. Certainly Valera's confession didn't make the situation any better, because if anything it was now two inadequate people in charge of raising a human being instead of one, but it was nice to know he wasn't alone in this journey, and what Valera lacked in sanity she more than made up for in resilience and creativity.

They would just have to settle for being the weird family in the neighborhood. Weird he could live with. Hell, weird he went to bed with every night.

"You're gonna have to stop making me so happy, by the way," he told her.

Valera grinned. "It's all part of my evil plan to enslave you in my wicked gynocracy."

"It's working." Ryan smiled and kissed the top of his daughter's bald head. "Merry Christmas, Lily."

Valera looked at him with a confused frown. "She doesn't understand you, Ryan."

He closed his eyes and sighed. "Can we have at least _one_ normal family moment? Just one normal hour where we do and say things normal families do."

"Us, normal?" she snorted. "Possibly you've been unconscious since the moment we got together."

"Well, we can pretend," he said with conviction. "At least tonight, let's pretend."

"Oh, alright," Valera sighed. "But I don't want her to get any ideas."

Ryan smiled, looking at his first child, and still the sight of her made his heart jump. Valera was bloated, her hair was a mess, and the dark circles under her eyes looked like two giant black holes threatening to swallow her face. Still he was sure he'd never seen anything as beautiful in his life.

Sighing contentedly, he smiled at the baby. "She has no hope, does she?"

Valera looked at her adoringly. "None whatsoever."

--

Hours later, when the first sparkle of dawn peeked over the horizon, Calleigh walked out of the bedroom, having disposed of her Christmas garments and feeling normal again in a pair of jeans and a shirt.

Eric, however, still dressed as Rudolph, sat on the couch, moping, staring at the television. Their Christmas tree stood in a corner, lights blinking, but it did little to lighten his mood. She quickly noticed the television was off, and looking at him she couldn't help feeling a small pang of pity. She approached him, took the remote from his hand and sat down. He didn't move, and she placed her hand on his thigh.

"I called the airline," she said and he finally looked up, and though he looked hopeful for a second, the emotion was fleeting. "All the flights are booked."

He sighed, but didn't seem surprised.

"I'm sorry, Eric."

Eric shrugged his shoulders and his body sagged. "Hey, Jamaica's not going anywhere, right?" he said bitterly. "Then again, neither are we."

"I'm sorry." She stroked his thigh with her thumb. "I know you were looking forward to it."

"Yeah," he sighed. "I really was."

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and rubbing his eyes, and Calleigh cocked her head and pushed his hands away from his face, but he still looked straight ahead. "Eric, does it really matter _where_ we are?"

"Yes," he said stubbornly.

Calleigh frowned at the unexpected answer. "Why?"

"Because," he said, frustrated, but frowned and said nothing more.

She nodded. "Alright, I thought maybe it was because you were tired and wanted a change in scenery for a while, or maybe to see different cultures, but I guess _because_ is just as logical."

He finally leaned back, blowing air through his nose like a stubborn bull. He stayed quiet for a second, but she raised her eyebrows, waiting for a response, and he looked at her and looked away, feeling slightly foolish but still disenchanted.

"This was... I wanted..." He frowned at his inability to communicate easily but continued. "This was me, Calleigh, finally being able to do something nice for you."

She frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"Cal, it's always been _your_ apartment, and _your_ furniture and... all your things. It just seems like I can't contribute around here, like I'm just—"

"Hey!" she said loudly, interrupting him. "Stop that, alright?" He sighed woefully, like an unhappy four year old, and Calleigh rolled her eyes. "Eric, I don't care. So we live in my apartment, so what?"

"I just..." He sighed, frustrated, once more. "With this trip, I finally felt like I was... providing for something."

"Eric," she said, chuckling disbelievingly, but he seemed to be pretty serious and she couldn't believe he'd never voiced this to her before. "Are you really making an issue out of this? Really?"

He shook his head. "I know, Calleigh. I love you and you love me and everything's great, but... it just bothers me that I can't do more."

"What do you mean, do more?" She shifted in place to face him when he didn't reply. "Don't you help me pay the mortgage and cook and clean and fix things?"

But Eric shook his head stubbornly. "That's not enough."

"It is to me," she said, watching as he frowned at something on the floor. Calleigh rolled her eyes. "Is this a man thing? Does it bother you that I make more money than you do?"

Eric frowned. "No. I don't care about that, it's just..." He stopped and sighed, and frowned at the silence when she didn't say anything (quickly he realized how ridiculous the whole thing sounded aloud), but suddenly he looked at her and continued. "I just wanna take care of you. With everything that's been going on at work... I wanted to do something nice. I was gonna teach you to dive and take you fishing..."

Calleigh smiled warmly and cocked her head. "That's very sweet, Eric, but I don't need you to take care of me. Yes, the trip was a great idea, and I _was_ looking forward to it, too, but I don't care where we go, or whose apartment we live in. To be honest, I'm just thrilled we don't have to see Carmen's face anymore."

Eric half smirked, but it came off with less enthusiasm than he intended. Though he, too, was glad that a great bulk of his salary wasn't going straight to Carmen Henney's pockets any longer, he still felt that, in a very childish way, Christmas had been ruined.

He felt Calleigh's head on his shoulder, and he pressed his cheek to her hair. The morning was cool and crisp and he was beyond exhausted, and not currently on a plane headed to Jamaica, all courtesy of the Wolfe spawn and its horrible timing. He knew it was selfish, but he still felt bitter at the thought of Ryan getting a brand new bundle of happiness just in time for Christmas Day, and he getting screwed over by life, _again_.

Because how on Earth would he and Calleigh be able to get vacation time together again? How long before they had to go back to work, only to be shot at by idiots, sued by half-brained tartlets, or accosted again by Stetler's inane rules on office "fraternization"? If this day in fact set the tone for the new year, he wasn't sure he wanted to live to see the first week of January.

He sighed crabbily. Merry fucking Christmas indeed.

He was only halfway through feeling immensely sorry for himself when Calleigh began to shake next to him. Frowning suspiciously, he slowly realized she was chuckling. Eric looked down at her, unhappy. "Calleigh!"

She wiped her eye. "What?"

"I'm _brooding_," Eric said unhappily.

"I know," she said and quickly began to laugh. "I'm sorry, Eric, it's just—" she chuckled a final time and looked up. He looked confused and was still pouting, and that made her laugh some more. "I'm sorry."

"It's _not_ funny!"

"Eric," she chuckled, "you're moping around the living room in your Rudolph outfit. It's a _little_ funny."

"No it's not," he said stubbornly. "And I'm not moping, I'm conveying my feelings in a serious and manly-like manner."

"While wearing spandex and antlers," Calleigh noted jocosely.

"Yeah, laugh it up," Eric said, taking his antlers off and throwing them aside, and when she continued to laugh he crossed his arms in front of him grumpily. "Well, now I'm _glad_ I'm not taking you on a trip."

She stopped laughing and bent one of her eyebrows defiantly. "Oh, you're taking me on a trip."

"All the flights are booked, little miss smart ass."

"All the flights to _Jamaica_ are booked, you giant party-pooper," Calleigh retaliated, smirking knowingly.

Eric frowned suspiciously. "What are you up to?"

Her smile turned into a grin. "Eric, all the flights to Jamaica are booked because everyone's flying there."

Eric raised his eyebrows and nodded slowly at her third-grade logic. "Wow. It's a good thing you're so hot, cause..."

Calleigh frowned at him. "Idiot." She slapped his arm and quickly he made a face and rubbed the sore spot. "What I meant is, because it's winter nobody is flying to the states right now, which means contiguous tourism is cheaper at this time of year."

"So?"

She rolled her eyes impatiently. "So, for the price of those tickets to Jamaica plus hotel expenses, I was able to find something better."

Eric frowned. "Define better."

She grinned happily, like a little girl with an important secret. "You and me, and a cabin in the mountains of Colorado. What do you say?"

But Eric made an unpleasant face at the idea. "Cal, it's _freezing_ in Colorado."

Calleigh shrugged her shoulders. "I know."

He looked at her. "And we don't have any winter wear."

"I thought you planned on spending the bulk of the week naked."

"Yeah, in Jamaica, where it's 90 degrees," he said.

"Come on, Eric, Jamaica is all crowded, anyway."

"That's because smart, sensible people are running away from the cold," he explained condescendingly. "They recognize that being in the Caribbean right now is a good way of _not_ freezing to death. I have an insane girlfriend trying to drag me to the mountains of Colorado so I can piss ice cubes for a week."

She rolled her eyes again at the drama. Sometimes Eric could be as difficult as a 14 year old girl. "Oh, it's not that bad."

"It's been a while since I graduated from college, but I'm pretty sure that thirty degrees below zero is pretty damn bad," he said, but she shrugged her shoulders dismissively.

"Too bad, cause I already switched the tickets," she said casually.

Eric let his head roll backwards and a grunt broke out of him. When he looked at her again, however, there was a tiny smile tugging at her lips as she looked decisively at the coffee table. "Okay, you don't even have a coat and all the shops are closed. What are you gonna wear?"

Calleigh smiled that smile he knew well (the one that appeared when she was up to no good), used her finger to move her shirt collar aside, and unveiled underneath that fabric, wrapping round her neck like a red rat snake, was the crimson string of a bikini.

Red bikini.

Eric's mood changed quickly and the sparkle returned to his eyes at the sight. "That's it?" he chuckled in a low tremble. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm a big fan, but—"

Calleigh smiled smugly and shrugged her shoulders. "Well, care giver, you're just gonna have to figure out a way to keep me warm."

She stood up but he sat there, thinking about the whole thing, a whole week in the frozen ass tundra that was called Colorado, surrounded by snow and mountains, and probably polar bears and penguins, too. Miles and miles away from civilization. Just him and Calleigh... a cabin, a hot tub and...

The red bikini.

She made it to the hallway entrance, looked over her shoulder and said, "Are you coming or what?"

Eric grinned, shot up the couch and chased her into the bedroom, and from the couch Rudolph's red nose rolled off the cushions and into the floor, where it continued its trek towards the Christmas tree, blinking merrily all the way.

The End


End file.
